1863

In my youth
my heart
was burnt by fire.

Etched, forever,
in mad dreamscape,
the shells of the scorched buildings,
men forever asleep,
in shattered corn fields.

Horses with flies in their nostrils,
lying by broken fence railings.

Mothers,
with photographs
and poetry.

Eternal night,
sweet dreams for the young,
amongst stars and decay.

Terror for the aged,
eternal night,
for no dawn will ever come.

Left behind,
in bitter darkness.

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1 Comment

Filed under History, outlaw poetry, poetry

One response to “1863

  1. Richard Carnal

    Well done.

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